


Dhiadokhos

by Poetry



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Sex, Comeplay, Friends With Benefits, Hair-pulling, Non-Human Genitalia, Other, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Sexual Rituals Related To Monarchy, Sexual Roleplay, Tenderness, Title/Honorifics Kink, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-08 11:05:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14104002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poetry/pseuds/Poetry
Summary: Mako’s whole face opened up into a grin. “You wanna have a royal consort tonight? Your quarters?”





	Dhiadokhos

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hyenateeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyenateeth/gifts).



> Hyenateeth, I loved your prompt about Mako roleplaying Cass's royal consort so much I had to write you a second giftfic. Enjoy.
> 
> (Dhiadokhos means "heir to the throne" in ancient and modern Greek.)

Cass sat in the common space in the Kingdom Come, half-reading a medical journal, half-listening to Apostolosian classical music they hadn’t heard in years. They didn’t have much else to do, holed up in the ship while the forces of at least three governments hunted them. They saw and heard in their peripherals when Mako came in, because you can never _not_ notice him, even if you’re trying your hardest to shut out the world.

He draped himself over the more comfortable chair, hooking his ankles over one arm and his chin over the other, facing Cass. His hair was stark blond today, falling down the side of his face in long spikes. “Whatcha listening to?”

Cass changed a setting on their wristband so the music played out loud from it instead of their comm implants. The space filled with thick, murky music, too many instruments playing lines too close to each other. Mako’s eyes went distant the way they did when he accessed the Mesh. “No offense,” he said, “but Apostolosian music sucks.”

“Some of it’s good,” Cass said automatically, then sighed. “But yeah, this composer sucks.” They killed the music.

Mako tossed his head to clear the hair from his face. “You ever miss Apostolos?”

Trust Mako to stumble into the most cutting possible question. Cass had been listening to the music and reading the medical journal from home trying to remind themself exactly why giving the Gnosis virus to the Empire had been a good idea. But the exercise had only given them new doubts. Cass didn’t owe their home planet anything; they certainly didn’t seem to think they owed anything to Cass. They missed home all the same, but they had yet to find anything specific they had loved about it. Finally, they admitted, “Sometimes.”

“I get that,” Mako said easily. “I miss September sometimes, even though the Institute _suuuucked_. They had these amazing huge storms sometimes – totally dangerous, you had to stay inside or you’d get washed away in a flood or something – but it was so cool watching them come in. And everything would be so fresh after.” He folded his arms under his chin. “What would you be doing if you were back on Apostolos right now?”

“I assume you mean if I wasn’t exiled,” Cass said. “Because if I were actually back on Apostolos right now it’d be a bad scene.”

“Yeah, sure. If you were still the hotshot fish prince.”

Cass rolled their eyes, but went along with it. It was a good question, one that cut to the heart of what they were trying to figure out. “I guess… I guess I’d still be a doctor. If only to try to dodge as much diplomacy as I could. They probably wouldn’t let me work at a normal clinic or anything, but I could do medical research. It’d be good PR for the royal family.” They pictured what Euanthe would have to say about that, and almost laughed. “Oh, wow. I’m forty. I’d pretty much have to be married by now.”

“Huh.” Mako’s face was unusually opaque, considering Cass. “Would you like that?”

“I mean, I guess theoretically it’d be nice to, you know, have someone like that. A partner. But in practice it’d probably just be someone politically convenient.”

Mako’s whole face opened up into a grin. He pushed himself forward on the arm of the chair and leaned in as close as he could. Lowering his voice from its usual setting of ‘sloppy yell,’ he said, “You wanna have a royal consort tonight? Your quarters?”

Heat bloomed in Cass’s chest. They let go of their medical journal and tightened their hand on their thigh. Mako caught the motion and curled his tongue around his teeth in delight. The two of them did this sometimes, to blow off steam after they pulled off a job, or when one of them was antsy and bored recovering from an injury. Mako had floated the idea of roleplaying before (“I’ll be the businessman drowning in debt, and you’ll be the corporate overlord looking to collect – ” “Holy shit, Mako, if you want fuck Jorne so bad, just do it and _never tell me about it_ ”) but this was the first time his ideas for roles were actually appealing. In their mind, Cass dodged the question of why the hell this was making them hot, and just said, “Sure. Why not. Let me just take a shower first.”

“Perfect!” Mako sprung up from the chair. “Dress up in something nice. It’s your big day, after all.” The bright flash of his smile seemed to linger as an afterimage in the air after he left.

  
  
  


Cass had only one Apostolosian-style outfit, on the off-chance they needed to look the part. It was so lightly used it still crackled with fresh starch. It wasn’t anything Cass would want to wear to their wedding, but it was made by a decent Apostolosian tailor Koda had recommended, and anyway Mako wouldn’t mind. Cass put it on, and a little self-consciously added their only pearl earring, which actually was traditional for weddings.

Mako swept in, casually bypassing the security protocols on Cass’s door as usual. Cass stared. He had wrapped himself in a bedsheet as a toga, which was just _so_ wrong they didn’t know where to begin, made a valiant but clumsy effort at braiding his spiky blond mane in the style of royal consorts, and done a genuinely decent job at traditional wedding makeup, a coral pattern in bright green eyeliner spreading across his face.

Cass realized their mouth was dry when they began to say, “You didn’t run into Aria or AuDy in the hallway like that, did you?”

“AuDy saw me but I told them it was a silly human thing they shouldn’t worry about,” Mako said. “Now get into character, Dhiadokhos.”

The title was electric down Cass’s spine. No one had called them Dhiadokhos, heir to the throne, in ten years. It wasn’t that Cass wanted to be Apokine. No, that wasn’t the thrill. It was having a place in the world. A name that fit, instead of a series of approximations. They drew themself up, then rose to Mako’s challenge and imagined themself on their royal wedding night. They had just been through hours of grand ceremony with a political match they barely knew, and now they were finally alone together.

Mako was fifteen years younger than them, short and skinny, with eyes full of charm and a head empty of Apostolosian social graces. The coral pattern of makeup branching across his cheeks, forehead, and nose made his sweet, wicked face look almost stern. He looked Cass up and down, slowly, and his pink tongue peeked out and ran over the lower edge of his teeth. Cass found themself unconsciously running their fingers over their gills, teasing themself with little shivers of sensation. They cleared their throat and said awkwardly, “How are you feeling… husband?”

Mortifyingly, Cass’s voice broke on the last word. It had been a long time since they thought of themself as someone who might have a husband one day. This was just a game they were playing. They didn’t have to feel everything they were doing like a hammer blow.

Mako widened his eyes a little and bit his lip. “Um. Nervous? Not that I don’t want to – you’re super pretty, Prince Cassander. I kind of lucked out on that part of the whole arranged marriage thing. It’s just that I’ve never, I mean with an Apostolosian. You’ll have to, um. Show me what to do.”

The heavy atmosphere in the room evaporated. Cass had to bite the inside of their cheek to keep from laughing. This wide-eyed innocent groom act was the exact opposite of what their first time had been like: Cass bowled over by a whirlwind of Mako Trig, grabbing at every part of them to find out what it did. Cass had had to flip him over and pin him to the bed to get a hand in edgewise. “Oh, don’t worry, my dear,” Cass said silkily, taking a step forward. “I’ll show you _exactly_ what to do. But let’s help you relax first, hmm?”

They gathered Mako in and kissed him, first a series of sweet closed-mouth kisses like they would have done at the wedding ceremony. Then, when Mako started chasing their mouth whenever they pulled away, they let the kisses go long and open-mouthed, until they could feel Mako’s makeup sweat off and smear onto their own face. They reached for Mako’s shoulders and massaged them until the tension melted out of him, and he held onto Cass’s upper arms for support.

Cass breathed into Mako’s ear, “That, uh, toga must be getting uncomfortable, don’t you think?”

“Oh yeah,” Mako said. “I’ve been wearing it for hours and hours.”

Cass’s hands roamed for the knots in the bedsheet, but Mako had tied it in some absurd way that they couldn’t figure out. He shook with suppressed laughter. “You need some help there, my prince?”

Cass pulled back. “Undress yourself for me,” they said, as if that had been their idea all along.

Mako had to take a couple minutes himself to find the knots in the bedsheet, and screwed his face up in concentration as he picked them apart. He shimmied out of the bedsheet and let it drop to the floor. (He had better pick it up later and wash it himself; Cass wasn’t doing it for him.) Then he was standing there in skimpy mermaid underwear, shiny blue scales with seafoam trimming. Cass just _knew_ he’d seen those in a store somewhere and bought them with a grin, imagining Cass’s face when they saw them. _I don’t have scales on my ass and you know it,_ Cass wanted to say. “Hmm. Well, I do have some experience with your kind, and I know what _that_ is,” they said instead, nodding down at the bulge distorting the scales on the front of the panties. They rubbed their hand on Mako’s stomach, their fingertips just skimming the seafoam trimming. “Want some help?”

Mako bucked his hips up toward Cass’s hand and whimpered, “Yes, Dhiadokhos, _yes_.”

Cass pulled Mako’s cock partway out of the panties, the head peeking flushed and pretty from the scales and trimming. Cheeky as they were, the panties weren’t just cheap novelty goods; Mako had picked them up somewhere halfway nice. They spread his precome all over the head with their thumb, supporting him by the back of his neck as he hiccuped with surprised relief. “There, my sweet. Relax. We’re going to have a good night.” They worked his foreskin up and down, getting everything slick, the rush of blood under the skin still searing hot to their sensibilities. Then they ducked down and rubbed the real scales on their cheek against the false ones on Mako’s panties, huffing out a silent laugh at how ridiculous it all was before pulling them down with their teeth.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Mako panted, “I really like what you’re doing here, but uh, don’t I have to… do you? To, uh, prove the consummation?”

This time, Cass couldn’t hold back the laughter. They leaned their face against his thigh and shook with it. There was an ancient Apostolosian tradition of checking the newlyweds for the distinctive signs of consummation, but the Empire was far too respectable these days to parade heir and consort naked around the court so everyone could look at their come stains. In the modern Empire, the day-maid who came to attend the heir in the morning would discreetly check the royal couple and report back to the Apokine.  But Mako's voice had gotten particularly breathy when he’d said “prove the consummation.” So Cass got to their feet, held Mako by the shoulders, looked him in the eye and said, fighting down a smile, “Yes. Of course. The Apokine and their retinue will need to behold the marks that seal our pact.” And they undid the wrap on their jacket, and peeled off their undershirt, which already had twin stains.

Mako stared, wide-eyed, at the stomata leaking dark fluid on either side of their abdomen – as if he hadn’t fucked the left one with his cock and the right one with his fingers in the rush of adrenaline right after they grabbed the Gnosis virus. “What are those?”

“My stomata. They…” Cass searched for a more royal way to say _they’re where the jizz comes out._ “Produce my seed,” they finished, and immediately felt like the hero in a bad historical bodice-ripper.

Mako’s lips twitched, but he held it together. “Oh, well, I guess I should… they’re so interesting.” He stepped in and rubbed two fingers around Cass’s left stoma, staining them slightly purple. One fun fact Cass had discovered after years of living on Counterweight was that while Apostolosian reproductive fluid left subtle dark tints on Apostolosian skin and scales, and a rich purple sheen on dark human skin, it left dramatic dark indigo stains on pale humans like Mako that had to be vigorously scrubbed off in the shower before they went away.

Mako held up his purplish fingers and said, “I’ll show everyone what we did tonight. I’m gonna get this _seed_ all over my mouth.” Cass gritted their teeth – they were never going to hear the end of this – then forgot what they had been so annoyed about when Mako knelt down and kissed their left stoma sloppily. Though he did it open-mouthed and messy like an overeager teenager, he still did all the things he knew Cass liked, jabbing inside with his tongue and grazing the edges with his teeth. Cass couldn’t help themself; they pressed the heel of one hand into their right stoma and grabbed at Mako’s lumpy braid with the other. He pulled away for a second to gasp, “Yeah, Ca– Prince Cassander – pull on it, show me how you like –“ Cass cut him off by pulling his face over to their other stoma, which Mako frenched with wet smacks of his tongue. Cass buried their fingers in his braid and hissed as their clasper fins started curling to attention inside their starched slacks. They could feel Mako smile into their stoma as he felt them stir against his chest, and tongue-fucked their stoma even harder. Every tiny shift of Mako’s body arcoss their confined clasper fins was torture. The stiff crackly formal slacks chafed the fins as they stiffened and curled outward from their positions tucked flat against their thighs.

Finally, Cass couldn’t take it a second longer. They yanked Mako backward by the braid. He was utterly debauched, his mouth, cheeks, chin, and neck dripping with dark purple fluid, like a vampire at a messy feast of blood, or a kid who had eaten way more blueberry sauce than he should. Cass leaned down and kissed him, staining their own lips. They found a drip on Mako’s neck and smeared it down between his collarbones.

Mako’s eyes flicked to Cass’s stomata. He licked his lips. “Why did we stop? I liked doing that. Wasn’t I good?”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Cass said. “You were great. I just need to take my slacks off. They’re, uh, getting pretty uncomfortable.” They undid the laces and took them off, letting their fins spring free from their thighs, fully rolled up and aching. Mako knelt back on his heels, bringing himself to eye level with them. He touched the tips tentatively with his index fingers. “These are my clasper fins,” Cass explained. “Normally they lie flat, but they roll into cones when I’m aroused. They…” Their throat locked. How the hell did the heir to the throne explain what fucking was to the consort they were about to fuck?

“Oh, so I’m arousing, huh?” Mako’s face brightened, and he rubbed his cheek against a fin, the tiniest catch of stubble there lighting Cass’s nerves on fire. “Are you gonna fuck me with these, Prince Cassander?” When Cass gave him a look, eyebrows raised, he smiled and said, “Hey, I never said I was a _virgin_. I said I’d never been with an Apostolosian.” He reached behind himself, and his eyelids lowered to half mast. When he raised his fingers, they were shining with clear slick. “I even prepared for you, Dhiadokhos, see?”

Cass’s mind roared to a blank for a moment. Mako was so fucking shameless, and somehow it always worked for him – not just on the targets Cass had seen him sweet-talk on the Gnosis virus job, but somehow, mortifyingly, on Cass. They growled, grabbed Mako’s wrist, and sucked the slick off his fingers. “All right,” they said. “So you’re prepared. Come watch me prepare myself.”

Mako bit his lip, and Cass’s mouth twitched with a laugh. Watching Cass get themself ready drove him wild, and they both knew it. Cass settled back on their bed and patted the space next to them. Mako lay down, his cock lolling pink and eager against his stomach. Cass took a deep breath and drew their knees up to their chest, slowly entering their stomata with their fins. They let out a long, shivery sigh of relief as their fins drained the come out of their swollen, overflowing stomata. They squeezed their thighs in tighter, fucking themself a little deeper. They heard high, hitching breaths, and turned their head to see Mako with his knees up, too, fingering himself and watching Cass. When he caught Cass watching him back, he said, “When they told me I was going to marry an Apostolosian prince, I thought they would be some weird scary fish. But you’re like, nice. And really, really hot.”

Cass’s blood boiled with the now-familiar sensation of wanting to simultaneously fuck Mako stupid, and tell him they’d show him a weird scary fish and bend him over their knee for a spanking. The “fuck him stupid” urge won out only because they were being prince and consort right now, and even in a silly bedroom game, Cass would never spank their consort on their wedding night.

When Cass’s stomata were finally empty, they sat up on the bed, the cones of their fins engorged and stained dark with fluid. They smiled softly at Mako, staring up at them with huge eyes. They patted their thighs above their fins. “You ready for me?”

Mako nodded frantically. He got up and stood between Cass’s spread legs. “So, uh, which one do you want me on?”

Cass would fuck him with both if they could. They reached out to caress Mako’s blotched cheek, picking up a little half-dried come on their fingers. “Whatever you want.”

He straddled Cass’s right leg. Their right fin strained against the soft inside of his thigh, its heat searing them. Cass’s hands fisted tightly in the sheets when the tip of their fin breached Mako’s slick, open asshole. His weight settled down on Cass’s thigh, engulfing their clasper fin in grasping heat. They grabbed the back of Mako’s head and pressed their foreheads together, both gasping into each other’s mouths as they adjusted to the strange, sweet geometry of their joining.

When Cass got their breath back, they took Mako in their arms, flexed their leg muscles under him, and kissed the whimpers straight out of his mouth. This was why Cass loved this position for fucking Mako with their fins: they could be face to face, chest to chest, and he was so small and slight that they could easily bounce him on their thigh. Mako groaned deep into Cass’s mouth, rolled his hips, and said, “Prince Cassander, that feels so good. It’s so different, but it’s so good.”

Cass had almost forgotten their game, but it came back like a brick to the head. Mako was in their lap, grasping onto their shoulders and kissing them, and it was nothing like the art of consummations painted on ancient wedding vases, with the princes on top of their consorts, fins to stomata, their faces misaligned, joined intimately but without tenderness. This was how Cass would have wanted to treat their consort if they hadn’t been exiled, alone in the bedroom where the unforgiving eye of the court would never see that they had been gentle and kind.

Cass loosened Mako’s braid with long strokes of their fingers and rocked him on their thigh, kissing him along the jaw as he clenched sweetly around Cass. “I’m going to treat you right, Prince Consort,” they murmured into his purple-streaked neck. “I’m going to take you to see the places you want to go. I’ll make you all the dishes I know how to cook. I’ll protect you if the court is cruel to you. I won’t let anyone use you. I’ve got you, okay? I’ve got you.” Cass held Mako tight, as tight to them as they could, ground him down into his thigh, and came.

Mako whined desperately, nails digging into Cass’s shoulders as their right fin emptied its load into him. He rose off Cass’s thigh with a slick sound, rivulets of come running wine-dark down his ass and thighs onto Cass’s leg. Cass ran their hand between Mako’s cheeks, wetting their hand with their own fluids, and fisted his cock. “You want me to finish you like this?” they said. They patted their other leg. “Or are you up for another round?”

“Oh, wow. You can go _twice_ ,” Mako said, eyes wide. Cass smiled. They knew exactly how much that turned him on. Without hesitation, Mako impaled himself on Cass’s other fin. He moaned, satisfied and filled, reaching around to claw at the scales on Cass’s back. Their left leg got smeared all over with a flood of their come. Cass gripped Mako’s cock and held on for dear life as he rode their thigh frantically, sinking his teeth into Cass’s shoulder. They bit their own lip and arched their spine, bringing the head of Mako’s cock in contact with their loose, eaten-out stoma, and he cried out, his come mixing thick and pale with Cass’s at their opening. Cass shivered as they stroked Mako through the aftershocks. He couldn’t know how taboo it was for a consort to spill inside a prince without a ritual invitation, but Cass knew, and savored it. They hated how every aspect of sex became about power and ritual among royalty, how nothing could ever be good for itself. It made Cass want to defy every rule they’d been raised with, to have Mako come inside their fins and fuck his load back into him, to let Mako spend inside their stoma instead of on their scales, to lay out their stupid stiff Apostolosian uniform and make Mako drool and cry and leak all over it –

Cass came so hard they folded in around Mako, forehead against his, arms caging him, knee lifted to tilt him closer. His ass overflowed with it. Mako kissed them devouringly. When he stood, wine-dark fluid flooded down his cheeks and thighs, dripping until Cass’s leg was as wet as he was, pooling viscous on the floor. With all the stains on his face, neck, collarbones, balls, and thighs, he looked like he’d been fucked by a purple-black rainstorm. There were even a few streaks in his mussed blond mane. He rubbed his fingers through the come at his pelvic cuts and grinned. “That was a _good_ one. I need to always eat you out that much before you thigh-fuck me.”

Cass rested their face in their hand and laughed. “I had no idea you had such a wide-eyed innocence kink, Mako.”

“I don’t,” Mako said easily, leaning forward to press a kiss to Cass’s hairline. “That was for you. So you’d have someone to look after.” He turned to the tiny adjoining bathroom.

Cass followed him. “Wait. What?”

Mako thumped the shower head a few times to get the water running. “I saw you coming up with all those plans for us for the last mission. That’s why you do it, right? So you can take care of us.” He stepped into the spray and watched Cass through the curtain of his wet hair. “You know all that stuff you said to sexy consort Mako? About protecting him and treating him right? You do all that stuff for us in real life.”

Cass grabbed a bar of soap and a hand towel. They stepped into the shower. “Hey. Let me scrub all that off. I’m the one who got you that way.”

“Hey, Cass,” Mako said, leaning into them. They blinked, and warmed inside. The name sounded so much better coming from Mako than _Prince Cassander_ ever had. “You don’t have to get it _super_ clean down here.” He gestured between his legs. “I’ll see the marks later and remember that you’ve got me.”

Cass soaped up the towel and wiped themself from Mako’s face. “Yeah, buddy. I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> My take on Apostolosian genitals was brought to you by [shark genitals](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clasper), [spider genitals](https://spiderid.com/faq/how-do-spiders-reproduce/), and an undying gay love of [thigh strap-ons](https://thebiggayreview.com/sportsheets-strap-on-thigh-harness/).


End file.
